Der Erlkönig
by Zima Zimavich
Summary: Papa Germania and little Prussia are out for a lovely night-time ride, but someone is bored and wanting play-things...   Pretty much the exact poem-thing, in prose-fanfic form. Songfic, maybe, kind of? Narrated by Gen. Winter.


Howdy! _Der Erlkönig_ is a really cool song/poem that you should all listen to. English versions aren't hard to find. Gosh, it's kind of a popular song, it's probably already been done! I'm so sorry, I didn't check! But, uhm, here have another I guess?

Also: I'm really really sorry this kind of sucks probably I've really no way of knowing. I'm just...trying to not be so scared and nervous of writing and letting people _see._ It hurts, a lot.

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><p>Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any version of <em>Der Erlkönig<em>, ever. I just heard it, and thought it'd be fun to write a fic for it? (I don't know, I'm not...good at these kinds of things.)

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><p>It was much too late for anything but the few nocturnal creatures living in this part of Europe to be out. That didn't seem to stop the two figures galloping along at high speeds on horseback, however. A tall blonde man (who looked rather like a woman, actually), seated on a large black horse clutched a small pale child to his chest as they rode along. The child, clearly terrified and quite frightened, had his face burrowed into his father's chest, eyes squeezed shut.<p>

Unfortunately for the both of them, my former ward was bored, and was looking for a new plaything. His last toys – three poor brothers searching for a place to stay – didn't last nearly as long as he'd hoped.

"Gilbert, why are you hiding like that. There's nothing to be frightened of. It's only dark."

"But Vati!" The child had a terribly grating voice. It would be best if my Vanya tore out his vocal chords first. "There's something _there_! Don't you see it? It has a terrible crown and, and...! Vati, Vati! It's that...king-thing, that Mathias was talking about!"

"Please, child, calm yourself. There is nothing there. Only fog. Really, you are much too excitable." This man was going to make things far too easy.

Suddenly, he was there. In all his glory, my former ward. He went by many names, a different name for a different place. Here, he was called Erlkönig. He was riding on a gust of wind I'd fastened for him, in the shape of a large, ghost-white horse. Lips to the child's ear, he spoke, "_liebes Kind,_ you should come live with me. I would love you and take care of you forever. My house is lovely, too! I have beaches, and so many fields of sunflowers, and I know lots of fun games! Oh, you should meet my mother, as well. Actually, she's dead. But she's frozen, and in right next to my throne, so you can see her at least! She's very beautiful."

He...was not very good at persuading people to come with him. And his voice, though high, soft, and lyrical, often came off as frightening to his...victims. Luckily, though, he was strong. Very few people could resist him when he wanted something.

"Vati, do you _hear_ this? He wants to steal me! And he wants me to meet his dead mom!"

"_Hush,_child. Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, _bitte_. It's only the wind." As an afterthought, the father muttered, "It's not like he could handle you, anyway."

The Erlkönig laughed. "Gilbert, you're father doesn't think we'll have fun together! Don't you want to prove him wrong? You're such a nice-looking child. You should really come live with me, it would be wonderful! I'll have my two sisters give you everything you could ever want! I'll even let you dance with them, sometimes. If you're good."

As he spoke, two shadowy figures appeared off the the side, by a small creek. Both were quite nice-looking – one in a soft, timid way, the other in a frighteningly beautiful way.

"Vater! Do you see them? There are two ghosts over there! They look kind of sad, actually." Gilbert alternated looking wide-eyed at the two women, and burrowing his face deeper and deeper into his father's chest. Really, was he trying to crawl inside?

"Ja, ja, son. The wisps of that willow tree do look quite similar to women. _Please_ calm down, we aren't far now from the farm."

Hey, Gilbert, do you want to know a secret?" My Vanya giggled, and took the child's forearm into his hand, "I love you," he whispered, " I think you are beautiful. You can protest all you like, but you'll be mine." He leaned in, closer than before. His voice lowered to dangerous levels, and his nails dug in to Gilbert's skin hard enough to draw blood. "I'll even use force, if I have to."

The child let out a terrible, blood-curling scream. "VATI! Vati he has me! He's pulling on me Vati I'm bleeding, _help me Vati!_"

The father, now thoroughly frightened, (as he should have been), clutched the screaming child to his chest and pushed the horse as fast as it could go. He was so absorbed in getting to the the farm quickly and safely, he hardly noticed that the child had stopped screaming.

When he finally entered the warm house, he found his son was paler than death, ice cold, and no longer breathing.

Okay, hey! Originally, I sort of wanted the father to be Prussia and the child to be Germany, but Germany would probably never freak out like that (on the outside). Germania and Prussia seemed to work better. And, I know that the Erlkönig is probably supposed to be German (or something), too, but, really? It's sung in a high, soft voice, and "I love you, I am charmed by your grace and form/and if you're not willing, I'll take you by force". How can it be anyone other than Russia? (Okay, yeah, it can be others, too, probably, but I think he fits best.)

Some stuff: Vati/Vater: dad/father

_liebes Kind: _dear child

Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, _bitte: _Be calm, stay calm, _please _

(The translations were taken right from the poem. I've probably used it in the wrong context or something, sorry.)

Some other stuff: I highly doubt there was any rape-planning going on here. If you were thinking that, please cease those thoughts, they are not good ones. He just wants a pretty kid to keep around for company. Or to eat. I don't know what elf-kings do in their spare time with their victims.


End file.
